


somewhere where the sun is shining bright

by meggiewrites



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Bayer Leverkusen, FC Barcelona, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, Injury, Inspired by Real Events, Kinda, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Phone Calls, Rival Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 21:48:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10228214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggiewrites/pseuds/meggiewrites
Summary: Bernd is waiting to get surgery after an ugly collision the day before left him with a broken nose and a headache.He could very well use some cheering up, but instead a certain someone is very outraged that despite his injury, he kept on playing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something that somehow wrote itself after I received an anon about Marc cheering Bernd up after the broken nose he got against the game against Werder on Friday.
> 
> Title from Ed Sheeran's _Barcelona_ , obviously.
> 
> A big thank you to [Khalehla](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Khalehla) for the beta!
> 
>    
>  _Disclaimer: Not related to reality. That is all._

The noises in the hospital felt strangely dull, as if they were coming from far away. Bernd had already been placed in his hospital bed and administered some pain killers by a black-haired nurse with a smile that was clearly put on, who then left him on his own.

His nose still hurt, but it was more of a numbing soreness than a stinging pain. He had to refrain from touching it several times, even though he knew that that wouldn’t help the swelling.

To distract himself he’d taken out his phone, which he thankfully was allowed to keep until right before the surgery. As to be expected, there were several ‘good luck!’ and ‘get well soon!’ texts from his teammates, friends and family – including a few very concerned ones from his mother, even though they’d talked for over an hour just that morning.

He sighed when he realized that the one message he anticipated the most still hadn’t arrived. He huffed, and just as he was about to put the phone away again, the blasted thing started ringing. He decided to blame it on his condition and the meds that he startled a little, but he could feel a smile sneaking onto his lips when he read the message lighting up the screen.

_[ Marc calling ]_

It took him a second to accept the call, quickly checking if there was anyone in near sight, but when he did he was instantly greeted by his partner’s concerned face. (Was Marc his partner? His boyfriend? Nemesis? Rival-turned-lover? They’d never really put a label on their relationship.)

“Hey.” Bernd cringed at how awkward and weak he sounded, and how his greeting only seemed to deepen Marc’s frown.

“What the hell were you thinking, Leno!”

Bernd’s heart clenched at the other’s use of his last name but he couldn’t prevent himself from snorting, then winced at how it sent a sharp pain through his body. “Hello to you too, babe.”

Marc didn’t even react, but simply talked over him “… just to continue playing! With a  _broken nose_!” He looked downright furious at that point, his face contorted in a way Bernd hadn’t seen since they were teens and at each other’s throat all the time.

“I didn’t know it was broken at the time!” Bernd knew it was stupid to try to defend himself in that situation, propped up in a hospital bed, waiting to be wheeled into the operation theatre. Against Marc-André of all people, who had learned to see through his shit a long time ago.

“Oh you didn’t know, did you?” Marc deadpanned “Or, you suspected but wanted to play on because Jogi was in the crowd.”

That hit home. Bernd flinched, then lowered his gaze, unable to look into Marc’s eyes and face the other keeper's icy stare. He didn’t need his rival – boyfriend or not – to remind him why he’d ignored the roaring pain, why he’d gotten back up on his legs and returned to his box even if he’d felt like the ground would open up underneath his feet at any given moment.

With the hand not holding his phone he fiddled with the thin blanket that had haphazardly been thrown over his legs. The fan above his head rattled, and for a moment he just wanted time to stop, for the pain to disappear and for this call to end, until a softly whispered “Bernd” brought him out of it.

The look on Marc’s face was so unlike the one he’d sported just a moment ago that Bernd briefly wondered if he’d missed something. He could swear he could see the other keeper’s eyes welling up.

He saw Marc lift his hand and stop short in front of the camera, as if he’d wanted to stroke Bernd’s cheek.

“I was so worried about you. You were struck down.” Bernd gulped. “And then you weren’t getting up. You just laid on the ground, unmoving. I – I was terrified!”

His voice had become louder again at the end, but then he sighed, broke off and ran a hand through his hair – only then did Bernd notice that it had already looked out of place before, as if he’d messed it up several times, a gesture he knew meant that Marc was deeply unsettled. “Just. Don’t do anything like this again. Please.”

They said nothing for a minute or so, and Bernd only sighed when Marc bit his lip, his eyes pleading.

“I can’t control if I get hurt, Marc. You know it doesn’t work like that.”

That only prompted the other keeper to roll his eyes, but Bernd could see the underlying fondness in it, understood the gentle way in which the words rolled off Marc’s tongue, despite the slightly biting tone.

“I know. But next time, don’t try to prove something. Or I will probably die from a heart attack before we can actually see each other again. Deal?”

“Deal,” Bernd murmured; a strange yearning for the younger man’s strong arms around him suddenly flared up in his stomach and he realized he’d give a lot for the other to actually be there with him. But as it was, there were more than a thousand kilometers and nine days separating them.

“Will you be watching our game tomorrow?” Marc sounded tentatively hopeful, and Bernd grinned at the irony.

He’d used to watch 'Gladbach’s and later Barça’s games whenever possible so he could analyze Marc’s every mistake; of course without ever admitting how obsessed with the slightly younger goalkeeper he’d been. Nowadays he just watched them trying to fill the hole that Marc's absence left in his heart.

But he wasn’t about to tell Marc that.

“Sure. I do need to keep a close eye on you after all, if I want to play against England. Just in case Manuel is sick again, of course.”

Marc snorted. “Tosser.” Then he sighed, casting a look over his shoulder. “Alright then, I have to be off now. See you next week” and with a pause in between, “love you.”

Bernd blinked, but before he could reply, Marc had already hung up.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> _I write FICTION about real people. None of this is intended to harm them or their reputation in any way_
> 
>  
> 
> Please leave kudos and maybe a comment if you liked it! | [tumblr](http://manuelmueller.tumblr.com/)


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